Doubts In Darkness
by FeanorusRex
Summary: The night before Thor's coronation, Loki schemes and Sif worries.


**AN:** A rewrite of something I wrote years ago.

Sif cannot sleep. This is not unusual; after a hard day of weapons traininghaving her muscles on fire with exhaustion is hardly conducive to sleep. But it is not soreness that causes insomnia, not on the eve of this most important day.

And so, to quiet her mind Sif walks though the halls of the the Asgardian Palace, to chase away the unfounded, _surely they are unfounded_ , trepidations that she feels about tomorrow.

 _This really is quite melodramatic_ , Loki thought, _plotting inside my father's very throne room the night before my brother's downfall._ Yet he is, sitting in the almost darkness going over the plan's details again and again, searching for some flaw, some trace that might bring the blame back to him. There is none. He has been planning this for, literally, ages.

 _Perhaps, 'downfall' is too strong a term, for I am not plotting his death, only his deposition from the throne. I am doing Thor a favor really, in rescuing Asgard from his feckless rule_.

Tomorrow... His greatest trick. Even were it not to achieve his desired outcome, what a story it would be. Frost Giants in Asgard! People would not cease talking about it for centuries. Of course he could never admit to being the author...

 _On the other hand, if my plan were to succeed, then the throne is mine and all things that come with it. Everything I have seen promised to Thor. I set this plan in motion tomorrow. Tomorrow could not come soon enough._

The great door at swings open and he turns, a lie ready on his lips to explain just what he is doing. "I thought I saw someone enter," says Sif, walking toward him.

"What astute eyes you have; you could replace Hemindall as Guardian."

She uncharacteristically ignores the ribbing,"What are you doing here, at this time of night?" Sif raises an eyebrow, "planning some prank?" _I'd hardly call planning the first stage of usurpation a prank._

"What are you doing here, waiting for a lover?" he fires back. But so as not to rouse her suspicions Loki says,"thinking about what sort of ruler my brother will make." _Hardly a lie._

He expected some remark about him thinking and how he should do that more often, but instead Sif sits and said intently, "Do you think Thor will make a good king? Of course, he is my friend, but the way he acts sometimes, challenging other to a fight over the slightest accidental offenses. He has prowess in battle yes; but a king need prudence as well and..." She trails off.

It seems he is not the only one who doubts Thor's ability to rule well.

"And," she picks up again, "he'll be my sovereign; I'll owe him my loyalty as well as warrior's allegiance. Everything changes tomorrow."

"It does, doesn't it? For one thing you should not beat up your king terribly hard in sparring. It's bad manners."

"True. I'll have to use you. You can beat up a prince can't you?" Loki internally winces at the memories of the few times he sparred with Sif. He haven't known it was possible to hit someone so hard with a shield that it was left dented.

A noise outside- merely the footsteps of a passing guard-but they both stiffen, like children caught in some wrongdoing until the sound fades. This is ridiculous, of course; their hushed tones could have never drawn any guard and even if they had, Loki had long since mastered the art of turning himself and other invisible at will. Sif must realize this too because he hears her laugh softly in the darkness and then say: "What reason would you give for us being here?"

It is an old game, coming up with alibis for whatever, current miscreant deed Thor, and they were committing. They would invent sometimes outlandish, sometimes plausible stories. Some of them had even been used, Loki's of course; he wasn't called the Prince of Lies for nothing.

"Why- I would explain of our torrid, undying passion for one another and how we met here to consummate our desires at last."

"We have chosen a rather lavish and important place to 'consummate our desires,'" Sif replies drily, gesturing at the grand throne room around them.

"Only the best for you, my lady."

She snorts, unimpressed. "Your alibi falls apart if the person you are telling it to notices that we are, first of all, fully clothed and also not remotely-"

"Is all this criticism is only to cover the fact that you can not come up with no better one?"

"Certainly not," she says, instantly rising to the challenge, "I would say that we are co-conspirators, plotting to overthrow the new would-be king. For, what better place to commit treason than that Allfather's throne room, on the night before his son's coronation?" Sif crosses her arms, satisfied with a point well made.

"Perhaps, but which one of us shall usurp the throne?" _How right you are. Treason in your own throne room, Allfather's, indeed, and you are too blind to see it._

Reality, in the shape of Sif's voice intruded on his thoughts, "I _would_ say myself, of course, I would love to have a female ruler of Asgard, but I think it must be you; being royalty and everything, I think you new subjects would adjust to you more readily."

 _It is almost frightening how close she comes to the truth_. "I must concede the victory to you then; myself on the throne of Asgard, what a pretty thought." _And soon to be reality._

"You _concede,_ are you feeling alright?" But he does not answer and she falls silent, again turning serious.

Loki glances sideways at her. Speaking of torrid passion...He loved her, once upon an time, with all the burning infatuation of adolescence, never confessing, nursing his desire secretly, hating the way she looked at Thor but rejoicing in the fact that, at least, Thor never looked back.

Perhaps she will look more favorably on the Loki King of Asgard than on Loki the second son, good for only magic tricks.

His attraction faded with the calm of adulthood yet some vestige of the feelings remained with him, like an old hated wound, never fully healed, still paining its bearer occasionally, but one that he has learned to live with.

"This is ridiculous," Sif says, standing. "Thor becomes king tomorrow; worrying about it will have no avail, and dawn is fast approaching." She descends the steps of the dais, walking to leave, adding over her shoulder- an after thought, "goodnight."

He remains in the hall a moment long after she goes before returning to his chambers. Those ironically correct words, spoken in ignorance still sounding in his mind, _Everything changes..._

 _Yes, lovely Sif,_ he mentally answers her, _tomorrow everything does._


End file.
